


A Rock and a Hard Place

by ereshai



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dubious Consent, Forced Pregnancy, Fuck Or Die, Fuck or Be Killed, Human Trafficking, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, or is that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint didn’t even know why he kept hoping for some spark of humanity in his captors. Anybody who would kidnap and breed omegas and then sell the resulting children obviously didn’t have a soul. He promised himself he would see them in hell. He was going to send them there himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notaredshirt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaredshirt/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Strong Enough to Mend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055181) by [notaredshirt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaredshirt/pseuds/notaredshirt). 



> This would not exist without notaredshirt's _Strong Enough to Mend_ , and she graciously allowed me to play in her 'verse. She also beta'd this at the last minute for me. Thank you, bb!  
> Please see the notes at the end for a few more details about the warnings, or feel free to contact me through my [tumblr](http://ereshai.tumblr.com/ask).  
> Check out the [art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2604086) by Knowmefirst!

Clint stumbled to a halt in front of a sealed door, one of many along the dingy hallway. The guard who had been pushing him along punched a code into the security pad on the wall, while the other two kept their weapons trained on him – they had learned quickly that he would take any opportunity to escape, no matter how many times he'd failed before. The beatings that followed each attempt were brutal, but not the worst he’d ever had in his life; they wouldn’t risk damaging him to the point where he couldn’t perform the ‘service’ their boss wanted out of him.

The door slid open, but he didn’t look up. He knew what – who – was in there. A hint of an enticing aroma wafted into the hallway. The guards shifted, their nostrils flaring; suppressants could only do so much against an alpha’s instinct to rut when there was an omega in heat nearby. Clint seemed to have built up a slight tolerance – his body was responding, of course, but he was in control of himself. That would change once he was in the room for a while, trapped with that pheromone-charged scent.

The muzzle of a gun jabbed him in the back, his signal to move. Before he had taken two steps, he was shoved forward, and he fell to his knees just inside the doorway; obviously, he hadn’t been moving fast enough for those fuckers. The door slid closed behind him, cutting off the guards’ snickers.

The concrete floor was cold against his bare feet, and his thin cotton pants did little to cut the chill. Clint stood up slowly, taking in the small room. It looked just like every other omega cell he’d been forced into since his abduction - a sink and a toilet in one corner, and a narrow bed along the far wall, with someone curled up on it, wrapped in the rough blanket. The only new thing was the security camera up in one corner. He didn’t think that was for him, and he wondered just who this omega was.

The scent wasn’t as overpowering as he thought it would be; the omega’s heat must have just started. He could also smell the tang of sweat, and…was that blood? He approached the bed carefully, not wanting to scare the guy – Clint was pretty sure it was a guy – more than he already must be.

“Hey,” he called softly. “You all right?” Stupid fucking question, of course he wasn’t all right.

There was no response. Clint reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. Still nothing. Well, he knew the guy wasn’t dead. The early stages of heat usually made sleep impossible for omegas; their gracious hosts must have really done a number on him. Clint rolled the unconscious man onto his back and the blanket fell away, revealing his battered and bruised face. Blood was trickling from his nose, and it stained the sheet beneath his head. He lifted the blanket a little. The man’s bare abdomen was covered with more bruises, and a set of shallow cuts along his left side bled sluggishly, though they were mostly scabbed over. The fingers of his right hand were swollen – probably broken. His wrist didn’t look so great, either. The knuckles of both hands were split. Clint didn’t check his lower half, but he was sure it wasn’t much better. Did they expect him to mount the man in his condition? Fuck that. At least the other omegas had known what was happening and had accepted, however reluctantly, his presence during their heats.

Clint strode over to the door and banged on it. “Hey! Open up!”

The window slot in the door slid open, and the face of one of the guards appeared. “Is there a problem, princess?”

Clint bared his teeth. “This dude is fucked up. You can’t expect me to-“

“What, he’s not pretty enough for you?”

“He’s passed out and bleeding everywhere.” Clint didn’t even know why he kept hoping for some spark of humanity in his captors. Anybody who would kidnap and breed omegas and then sell the resulting children obviously didn’t have a soul. He promised himself he would see them in hell. He was going to send them there himself.

“Sounds about perfect to me. What, you like it when they put up a fight?”

“Whose stupid idea was it to stick me in here with a half dead omega? Even if- What do you thi-“ Clint’s rage boiled over, choking off his words.

“Listen up, meat fucker,” the guard hissed. “He cost the boss a lot of time and money. That will be repaid, one way or another. Either you ride him through his heat, or we shoot him in the head and add his thumbs to the boss’ collection. Got it?”

Clint glared, but remained silent. He hated what they were forcing him to do in this place. How many of the omegas he had ‘serviced’ would rather have died than go through the hell they were living now? He only knew that as long as they survived, there was some hope of escape, or even rescue. Death didn’t come with second chances, and he couldn’t make that decision for someone else. He knew what happened to the omegas who put up too much of a fight.

“You might wanna think twice about causing trouble this time,” the guard continued. “Just because people pay out the ass for blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies doesn’t mean you’re irreplaceable. Boss is ready to find himself another breeder for this site. Someone more cooperative.”

And there it was. As much as Clint hated what they made him do, he wasn’t ready to die to avoid it. He was probably lucky all of the guards had dark hair, or they would have gotten rid of him a while ago. “Fine,” he muttered. “At least give me something to clean him up with.”

The guard snorted. “You won’t care about that soon enough,” he said, and slammed the window closed.

“I’m not some fucking animal,” he shouted. Still expecting common human decency, like a dumbass. He turned back to the omega, only to find him awake and staring at him.

“Hi,” he said hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. The guy was older than the omegas who were usually taken. He had thinning brown hair, and light blue eyes, surrounded by crow’s feet. Despite his injuries, he seemed pretty tough; he had obviously put up a fight. Clint had no clue who he was, but the camera in the room told him the guy was important. Somebody had to be looking for him, and they were going to be pissed when they found him.

“So, this looks bad,” Clint said after a long silence. “Um, I’m Charles.” He gave his alias; not that anybody was using his name, fake or not. He always gave a false name when dealing with criminals - he’d been taken after responding to a job offer that turned out to be bogus.

The man just looked at him. He definitely wasn’t scared, which was fine by Clint. Although by the tightness around his eyes, he was in a shitload of pain.

“Got a name?” The other man looked away, turning his attention to his swollen right hand. “Not very talkative, huh? That’s fine.”

The man struggled to sit up, flinching when Clint got too close. Clint held up his hands. “Take it easy. I’m just trying to help.” When the man nodded, Clint put an arm around his shoulders, supporting him until he was upright. The blanket pooled around his waist, and Clint could see a series of red stripes covering his back, his skin broken in several places. One of his legs was uncovered, as bare and bruised as his upper half. Clint figured he was completely naked under the blanket.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” Clint untucked one end of the sheet from under the mattress. He sawed the edge against an exposed bolt on the bed frame until it frayed enough for him to tear off a strip. At the sink, he wetted the cloth in the sluggish stream of cold water from the faucet.

“I’ll just...start at the top and work my way down?” The man shrugged and then winced. Clint stepped closer and tilted the man’s head up with a gentle hand under his chin. His skin was too warm, the only other sign of his heat Clint could detect. Clint couldn’t help himself – he inhaled the omega’s scent and closed his eyes, swaying a little closer. When he felt the man pull back, he shook his head abruptly, trying to clear it.

“S’ok.” He cleared his throat. “You smell g- I’m gonna clean you up.” Clint opened his eyes and breathed shallowly through his mouth. It helped a little. He tilted the man’s head up again and wiped his face. His nose didn’t seem to be broken, though it had been at least once before. The blood had mostly dried, and Clint didn’t want to scrub at it; the guy was in enough pain. It took several trips to the sink to rinse the blood out of the cloth before he was finished; he was grateful for each small break, especially after he noticed he had been absently caressing the man’s neck while he was keeping his head steady.

Clint ripped more strips off of the sheet and cleaned the cuts on his back and side. The damage could have been much worse, but he wasn’t going to question their luck – if you could call not getting whipped to bloody ribbons lucky. He sat on the bed behind the man to get a better look at the cuts, and he had to stop himself from nuzzling the man’s neck and breathing in his scent. Clint’s cock was uncomfortably hard, and he felt vaguely sick that he was ready to fuck the man, especially in his condition. Alphas were supposed to care for omegas when they were sick or in pain, not rut like mindless beasts just because they smelled something good. Fucking biology.

Clint cleared his throat. “You feeling any pain, you know, internally?” It wasn’t like he could do anything for internal injuries; he would just have to hope there weren’t any. He’d have prayed for a miracle, if he believed anyone was listening.

The omega turned to look him, his eyes dazed. He finally blinked and shook his head, swaying closer, their faces only inches apart. The man licked his lips, and Clint unconsciously echoed him. He touched Clint’s hand where it was resting on his ribs, and Clint realized he was stroking him with his thumb.  He immediately pulled away and scrambled off the bed.

“Sorry, sorry.” Clint threw the bloody rag in the sink with the other one and started pacing the small room. The omega curled up on his side and pulled the blanket back over himself, keeping an eye on Clint as he strode back and forth.

Clint’s mind was racing. He knew what he had to do and he should just get it over with. Because death was the only other option, for both of them. He couldn’t speak for the omega, but Clint wasn’t ready to die. Maybe that made him a bad man. Maybe he _was_ just a coward, like his brother had called him all those years ago.

The thought of his brother sent a bolt of rage through him. Huh. The omega’s scent had become more powerful now that Clint was in the room, sending Clint’s instincts into territorial overdrive. He had never had to compete with his brother for an omega’s attention, but now just the thought of him, of any other alpha, was infuriating. He took a deep breath to clear his head, but that only increased the tension. Clint reached down and adjusted his cock in his pants, squeezing it to relieve the ache.

A small moan from the bed caught Clint’s attention. The omega was clutching at the blanket and shivering. His heat was building fast, faster than Clint expected; he’d thought they had a few more hours before things got this bad. He knelt next to the bed and put his hand on the man’s forehead; he was burning up.

“You probably won’t remember this, or thank me for it later, but I’m going to get you through your heat, and try to keep us both from getting killed. Okay?” He didn’t really expect an answer, but the man nodded jerkily.

“This is so fucked up,” Clint muttered. “I mean, more fucked up than usual.”

The man shuddered. Clint stood up and pulled off his t-shirt and pants, dropping the clothes to the floor next to the bed. He was completely naked – they didn’t bother giving him underwear – so he kept his back to the camera; he wasn’t going to give them any more of a show than he had to. Clint crawled under the blanket, keeping himself between the omega and the camera. That put him on the man’s left side, so he didn’t have to worry about bumping his broken right hand. So close, the warmth radiated from the omega’s skin like a furnace, and his scent was powerful enough to make Clint lightheaded.

The man moaned again, and he pressed against Clint, trying to get closer. Clint propped himself up on his elbow, put his hand on the side of the man’s face and tried to catch his unfocused gaze. “Shh, I’ll take care of you.” Clint stroked his neck, avoiding the swollen bonding gland, and then ran his hand lightly down the man’s tense body, careful of the many cuts and bruises marring his skin; he shifted restlessly under Clint’s touch. When Clint’s hand came to a rest on his lower belly, just under the edge of the blanket, the man stilled for an instant, then parted his legs.

That small sign of cooperation relieved Clint a little. While many omegas were willing to accept any partner once their heat was far enough along, there were just as many who would fight off anyone they hadn’t chosen, until one of them was unconscious or dead. This guy was a fighter, and he would be able to do some damage, despite his injuries – the hormone cocktail released by his heat would allow him to ignore the pain until it was over.

An idea hit him then, a possible way out of this for both of them. Clint gently rolled the omega onto his right side so he was facing away from him, his right arm under the man’s head to make up for the lack of a pillow. “It’s ok. I’m gonna get you through this,” Clint said in his ear, fitting his body snugly against the other man’s. The omega began to push his hips back against him, and Clint’s cock slid between his ass cheeks.

They both shuddered and Clint put a hand on the omega’s hip to stop his movements. “Wait,” he whispered; he really, _really_ needed to have some control of himself for this. Clint tightened his hold, just enough to keep him still, and thrust hesitantly between the man’s legs. The slick the omega was producing eased the drag of skin on skin. This could work. All Clint had to do was make it look good for the camera; with the blanket draped over them, nobody would be able to tell he wasn’t actually fucking and knotting him.

Clint nudged the omega’s legs, maneuvering them into a more comfortable spooning position, and allowing Clint easier access. He took a deep breath – a mistake; his head started swimming and his hips jerked helplessly. By the time his head cleared, he was thrusting steadily against the other man. Against, not into, thankfully. The omega was grinding back into each thrust, his face turned into Clint’s arm to muffle his needy moans. His hand came up to cover Clint’s on his hip; Clint’s fingers were digging into the man’s flesh, pressing hard on the jut of his hipbone.

Clint let go, but the omega held his hand in place, and Clint had to stifle his own moan. The omega didn’t want _him_ , no matter what his body was telling him. He rested his cheek on his bicep, his face inches from the enticing curve of the omega’s neck. He closed his eyes. Not his. Clint thrust harder, desperate to finish before he lost his head completely. As good as it felt, it wasn’t enough, not for either of them. It wasn’t what their bodies were demanding of them.

A pitiful whimpering filled Clint’s ears. It wasn’t until he tried to say something comforting – he had no idea what – that he discovered it was coming from his own mouth. The omega took his hand off of Clint’s, and Clint stopped an almost instinctual grab to keep it there. _Not mine_ , he reminded himself. He clenched his free hand into a fist, the bed sheet twisting in his grip.

They strained against each other, sweat forming between their bodies. The blanket covering them made it worse, but neither of them kicked it away. The man’s arm bumped his hand, then again, and again, and Clint realized he was stroking his cock in time with Clint’s thrusts. He wanted to reach down and help him out – Clint was getting himself off between the man’s legs, after all, it was common fucking courtesy – but he was pretty sure that he shouldn’t do anything that seemed like a good idea right now. Or maybe ever.

The omega stiffened briefly, his hips stuttering with the lost rhythm, and then he came. Clint felt a sharp pain in his arm as the man bit him. The teeth on his skin, the thought of his own teeth on the omega’s neck, sent Clint over the edge and he came, too.

Fatigue washed over him, but Clint couldn’t let his guard down yet. If he fell asleep and the omega moved away from him too soon, _they_ would notice. He wasn’t sure how long they would have to pretend to be stuck together; he’d never really kept track when he’d been tied to any of his previous partners. He damn sure wouldn’t be able to stay awake that long, though. He tucked his arm around the man, hopeful that his instinct to keep the omega close would prevail when he fell asleep.

“Try to rest, honey,” he whispered in the man’s ear, unconscious of the endearment that slipped out. The man seemed relaxed, but his tension was obvious to Clint; he would have a hard time falling asleep, despite his orgasm – that by itself wasn’t enough to shut down his body’s clamoring need. It occurred to Clint that he could have used his fingers. _Way to go, dumbass._ Clint wasn’t sure what would be worse – to ride this unwilling omega through his heat, or to let him suffer through it when Clint could provide relief. The dilemma followed him into his sleep, and his dreams were a mix of bad memories and impossible scenarios that always ended with Clint making the wrong choice.

==

The noise of the door sliding open had Clint on his feet before he was completely awake. He was standing between the omega and the potential threat, for all the good it would do. There wasn’t much a naked, half-asleep alpha could do against armed guards, even with his protective instincts in overdrive. The person who walked through the door wasn’t a guard, however, or even one of the elderly omega janitors who were so desperate for a job they were willing to turn a blind eye to their employer’s illegal activities; it was a beautiful, red-haired woman. She was dressed in a blouse and a skirt, and she was carrying a bundle in her hands. Clint didn’t know her name, but he’d seen her several times since his capture. The guards mocked her behind her back, but she also made them uneasy. According to the snatches of gossip he’d overheard, she was the boss’ personal assistant. And from what Clint could tell now, she had no primary gender; she was neither alpha nor omega.

While Clint stood there in confusion, the woman took a few steps into the room, stopped, and flicked her unimpressed gaze over him as the door closed behind her. He had the sudden, horrible feeling that she knew exactly what he had done – hadn’t done – to the omega. He didn’t know why he thought that, but he had no idea how long he had been asleep; maybe he should have pretended they were still tied. When the woman tried to get a look at the man on the bed, Clint instinctively stepped to the side to block her view. She arched an eyebrow at him and took the bundle to the sink.

“A trade,” she said, her voice flat.

“What?”

“These,” she indicated the bundle, a first aid kit and a sheet, “for the blanket.”

Clint’s answer was immediate. “No.”

She moved closer, until Clint’s low growl stopped her. “The boss wants a show,” she told him, her voice quiet. “The blanket goes, one way or another.”

When Clint didn’t answer, she continued. “If you don’t give it to me, Marks and Rubio will come and take it. They won’t be as polite. And you won’t have the first aid kit after.” Marks and Rubio were the two guards who usually administered Clint’s beatings whenever he made an escape attempt. He wasn’t afraid of them, but he had more than himself to worry about. Suppressants made alphas even more aggressive than usual, and those two would love to take that aggression out on an omega they couldn’t have. Both alphas were dark-haired; if their boss caught them with what he called the ‘breeding stock’, they wouldn’t be breeding anything ever again – people who could afford to illegally buy a baby paid more for blonds, apparently.

If the two alphas walked into the room right now, Clint wouldn’t be able to stop himself from attacking. They would be armed; there was no way he could win. He turned to the omega; the man was sitting up with the blanket draped over him, his back against the wall. Clint wasn’t sure if he’d heard what the woman said – he was staring blankly across the room – but when he reached out, the man slowly pulled the blanket free and gave it to him. Clint held it out to the woman, dangling it from his fingers, his arm extended as far as he could reach.

“And the sheet,” she said as she took it and draped it over the crook of her arm.

Clint glared at her until she took a few steps backward. She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but he had a feeling she wanted to. He pulled the ruined sheet off the mattress, trying to keep her in sight as he did. The omega moved with Clint’s help. The fine trembling in his arms and legs told Clint just how hard he was working to keep it together; omegas didn’t like strangers in their territory during their heats any more than alphas did. Add that to the symptoms of his unrelieved heat, and Clint couldn’t help but be impressed by his willpower. Clint balled up the sheet and tossed it to the woman; he didn’t aim at her head, as tempting as that was. She caught it easily, and, without another word, went to the door and knocked twice. After checking her identity through the window slot, the guards let her out, and Clint and the omega were alone again.

Clint was suddenly conscious of the camera and his lack of clothing. He pulled on his pants and grabbed the first aid kit. “First things first,” he said as he sat on one end of the bed. The omega sat on the other end, his arms around his drawn up knees. He seemed much more alert, and he slid over to sit between Clint’s legs when Clint patted the mattress in front of him.

The contents of the kit weren’t very extensive – no finger splints or gauze bandages – but there were a bunch of antiseptic wipes, small packets of antibiotic ointment, and a box of Band-Aids. It would have to be enough.

He cleaned all of the omega’s wounds once more – the fragrance of the wipes masking his scent just enough for Clint to be able to think about something other than sex – before covering them with ointment and sticking Band-Aids on the cuts that seemed most likely to start bleeding again. By the time Clint was finished, the man was leaning heavily against him; they were practically cuddling. He threw the last used wipe into a corner with the rest of the garbage, and sat there, uncertain of his next move. His brilliant idea – his only idea – was shot.

The omega nuzzled his neck. Clint was cradling him, and he was caressing Clint’s upper arm and shoulder. It was almost too much – the heat-scent, the skin-on-skin contact, the gentleness of the omega’s touch – it would be so easy to just take him, but Clint wasn’t that far gone. Anyway, the mattress was in rough shape, and neither of them deserved friction burns.

Clint leaned down and grabbed his shirt off the floor. He nudged the omega until he was sitting up by himself, and then pulled it on over the man’s head, holding it to make it easier for him to slip his injured arm through the armhole. Maybe the guy could have managed on his own, but Clint wasn’t a total asshole. He held up the first aid kit and gestured at the sink; the man’s refusal to speak had infected Clint, and he was reluctant to break the silence between them. The man nodded and scooted the edge of the bed.

Clint took the kit to the sink; he came back with the folded sheet the red-haired woman had left there. The omega was watching him closely, his gaze moving up and down Clint’s body; he was much more alert than he had been earlier. Clint resisted the impulse to flex his arms – his best features, according to his previous bed partners. It was just an alpha’s urge to impress an omega, and completely inappropriate, maybe even offensive, given their situation. Not that Clint considered himself much of an alpha; he couldn’t even escape the facility, much less protect any of the omegas kept there.  

Once Clint had fitted the sheet onto one end of the mattress, the omega stood. He swayed a little once he was upright, his right arm cradled in his left. He was favoring one leg. Clint kept an eye on him as he pulled the sheet over the other end, ready to catch him if he fell. When he was done, he straightened and turned toward the man, their bodies only inches apart.

The omega reached out and put his hand on Clint’s chest, the touch hot on his cool skin. They were roughly the same size, and Clint’s shirt wasn’t long enough to hide the man’s erection. Clint’s thin pants weren’t doing anything to hide his, either. The room was thick with the omega’s scent, and Clint wanted him, oh, how he wanted him. Wanted to mount him and mark him and bond him. Wanted to care for him and protect him and…rescue him. He shook his head to clear it. Fucking alpha instincts.

Clint caught himself staring at the man’s mouth. He could lean forward, just a little bit, and see if the omega tasted as good as he smelled. He took a step back. Kissing was for people who had chosen each other. The omega limped after him, his hand still on Clint’s chest.

“You should sit,” Clint said, his voice rough. The omega pushed him, not hard, but Clint stepped back anyway. His leg hit the edge of the bed; he stumbled, and sat down before he could fall. The omega climbed into his lap, steadying himself with his good hand on Clint’s shoulder. He pushed Clint back again until he was lying down, resettled himself astride his hips, and started rocking against him. Clint groaned and put his hands on the omega’s thighs, sliding his hands up and down the man’s heated skin. The friction on his cock was amazing, and the omega’s slick was soaking through the thin material of his pants.

Sitting up suddenly, Clint wrapped his arms around the startled omega and stood. Turning, he set the man down on the bed, then shoved his pants to the ground and stepped out of them. He crawled onto the bed and leaned back on his elbows, his body on display. Their next move was up to the omega.

Apparently, the omega didn’t see any point in waiting. He straddled Clint again and brought their cocks together. Clint involuntarily thrust up at the contact, throwing the omega off balance, and Clint steadied him with one hand. When he tried to pull away, the man took his hand and held it firmly against his hip. _Right_. He laid back and grabbed the man’s other hip. The omega rose to his knees, reached between their bodies, and held Clint’s cock in place while he pushed himself down on it.

Clint stifled a moan at the heat engulfing the head of his cock. He tightened his grip on the man, but didn’t try to push him faster. The omega moved his hips in short thrusts, working himself open on Clint’s cock with every downward stroke. Soon Clint was buried to the hilt; the sensation almost overwhelmed him. He screwed his eyes shut, as if blocking the sight of the omega hovering above him would calm him. It didn’t work; every point of contact between them came into tighter focus. The taut muscles beneath his hands. The omega’s legs bracketing him. The tight, wet heat surrounding his cock.

The man shifted, leaning forward, and put his hand on Clint’s chest. It was a gentle touch, and Clint opened his eyes. The omega was staring at him, an unreadable look on his face. He shifted again, rising to his knees, then sinking down, the movement far too slow for Clint’s liking. With a hint of a challenge in his fever-bright eyes, he did it again. Clint dug his fingers into the man’s hips, jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. Again, the omega rose and fell above him, agonizingly slow, until he bottomed out. Then he circled his hips, grinding hard against Clint’s pelvis. Clint groaned. Another glide and grind, a little faster; the omega kept his eyes locked with Clint’s the entire time.

Clint wasn’t sure what the omega was trying to do. Make him lose his mind? The man rose and fell above him, but he couldn’t keep up even a gentle pace for long; he was soon trembling under Clint’s hands. Clint felt like an idiot; the man wasn’t in any kind of shape to ride him, especially not with his injured ankle. He sat up carefully, one hand on the omega’s back to keep him steady, and then helped him rearrange his legs so they were wrapped around Clint. The man propped his injured arm on Clint’s shoulder, and put his other arm around his neck, bringing their chests together. They were too close; Clint couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, and he rested his forehead on the man’s shoulder. Not his smartest move – the omega’s warm scent mixed with his own made Clint’s head spin. At least his bonding gland was on the other side of his neck – one less temptation.

The man shifted in his lap, and Clint groaned. He wrapped his arms around the omega and rolled his hips, wringing a moan from the man’s throat. They couldn’t move as freely this way, but Clint didn’t think it would take much for both of them to get off this time – he could feel his knot forming. They rocked against each other, the omega panting into Clint’s hair. This close, Clint could hear every catch of his breath, and the tiny whimpers when he moved…just…right.

The shirt was in the way, and Clint wanted to rip it off of the omega’s body. If he couldn’t flip the man over and cover his body with his own, then at least he could have more skin-on-skin contact, right? The man tightened his arm around Clint’s shoulders. Clint buried his nose in his neck and breathed deeply. _Not mine._ He left the shirt where it was.

The omega squirmed. Clint rocked his hips, keeping their bodies in tight contact, though he could have done the heavy lifting for both of them; he didn’t want to risk his knot slipping out before they were completely tied. Trying to squeeze back inside would be painful, and Clint couldn’t do that to him. The omega seemed to have the same idea; he used his internal muscles to squeeze Clint’s cock rhythmically, but otherwise he didn’t move around too much. Clint could feel his knot expanding, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He reached between them, grasped the other man’s cock, and started squeezing, replicating the sensations he felt on his own cock until finally the man came all over Clint’s fist. His orgasm set off Clint’s; his hips jerked helplessly, and Clint flung his hand out to the wall to keep them upright.

The omega collapsed bonelessly against him. Clint wiped his hand on the bed, and then he rearranged the omega’s legs so he could lay back. The omega settled himself comfortably on Clint’s chest. The way they were positioned wasn’t ideal, and Clint had to bend his knees and tilt his pelvis up a little to ease the sharp pull on his groin. The omega shuddered, and the movement sent tiny shockwaves through Clint’s body.

“Shh, honey,” he whispered, stroking the omega’s back with a light touch. “Sleep.” The omega sighed, and relaxed further into Clint’s body, his breathing slow and even. Clint closed his eyes, and let sleep claim him.

==

A clattering noise outside the door woke him. He started to move, then froze. The omega was still on top of him, though they were no longer tied together. The man raised his head and looked around blearily. He met Clint’s eyes, his gaze sleepy, but otherwise clear; the heat fever seemed to be completely gone, which shouldn’t be possible. Had they made the guy suffer through two days of unrelieved heat? Clint moved carefully out from under the omega, helping him settle on his good side on the bed. The man’s movements were slow; the pain-dulling effect of his heat was gone.

A slot opened at the bottom of the door, and a couple of water bottles were rolled through, followed by a paper plate with some sandwiches on it, and then the slot slid closed again. Clint pulled on his pants, and brought everything back to the bed.

He picked up one of the bottles and studied it. It had been opened, so he unscrewed the lid and took a drink. It was plain water, with the faintest chemical aftertaste. He waited, but nothing happened. He checked the other bottle; it had also been opened, and a sip gave him the same results. On a hunch, he went to the sink and turned the knob. Nothing came out of the faucet, not even the dismal trickle he’d gotten earlier. Whatever was in the water was slow-acting – or it wasn’t meant for him. The absence of the omega’s heat symptoms was starting to make sense now, as did how quickly they had come on in the first place.

There was nothing Clint could do. They had to have water. Whatever had been added would have no effect on Clint, of course, not if it was a heat inducer, as he suspected. That meant the omega’s heat was going to flare up again. On the plus side, he wouldn’t be feeling the pain from his wounds anymore.

He looked back at the bed to find the man studying one of the water bottles. “I think they put a heat inducer in it,” he said with a shrug. “I thought you should know that before you take a drink.” Not that he had much choice. The man looked at him steadily, and then fumbled the lid off one-handed and raised the bottle to his mouth.

Clint inspected the sandwiches next. There were eight, each cut in half. He pulled one apart; peanut butter and jelly. He put it back together and took a bite. It was dry – the bread was almost stale, and they weren’t very generous with the jelly – but as far as he could tell, it wasn’t laced with anything, like fertility drugs. Those took time to build up to an effective level in an omega’s body anyway, so there would be no point. That was a relief, because they didn’t combine well with heat inducers, as Clint had been forced to witness once in the early days of his captivity. Despite that, he checked the rest of the sandwiches, and then handed one to the omega. Hopefully, he wasn’t allergic.

They ate slowly, the omega chewing carefully on one side of his mouth. Loose teeth, probably; Clint felt his rage at their jailers well up again, but he suppressed it. With luck, there would come a time when he could do something with all of his anger; he just had to watch for the right moment.

Clint had eaten two sandwiches. He reached for a third, but hesitated; the omega was already on his fourth. If the man was that hungry, Clint wouldn’t take food from him. There would be another meal in a few hours; the food wasn’t that great, but their captors did feed them regularly. The omega picked up two halves, and handed them to Clint. Clint took them with a small smile.

They finished their meal; the omega drained the last of his water well before Clint was done with his, but Clint was reluctant to share – was it possible to overdose on heat inducers? He didn’t want either of them to find out. Clint used the toilet in the corner, and then helped the omega over to it, giving him whatever privacy standing across the room and turning his back could afford. Clint could tell the heat inducers were kicking in as he helped the man wipe himself down with some antiseptic wipes, and then escorted him back to the bed; his skin was hot to the touch again, and he pressed closer to Clint than was absolutely necessary. His heat scent, which had almost completely dissipated, was starting to fill the room again.

They’d gotten a few hours’ sleep, and Clint hoped they could get a couple more before the omega’s need got too intense. The omega had other ideas. As Clint helped him sit down on the bed, he swayed, and put his good hand to Clint’s waist to keep himself upright. He rubbed the skin of Clint’s hip with his thumb, and Clint went completely still. The omega stroked Clint’s side, paying particular attention to a nasty scar on his ribs. It was mostly healed, but it was still sensitive, and the light touch sent a shiver up Clint’s spine.

The man hooked a finger in his waistband and tugged him forward. He wrapped his arm around Clint’s waist and rested his cheek against Clint’s stomach. Clint wasn’t sure what to do, so he hesitantly set his hand on top of the man’s head. The man tightened his arm and nuzzled him, then turned his head slightly and gave him a tiny kiss. Clint pulled away. The omega looked up at him, his eyes glazed with heat fever once again. Clint cupped his face and shook his head at him a little. The guy probably thought Clint was someone else. Or maybe he was just a cuddler.

“Let’s lay down,” Clint said, his voice hoarse. The omega moved, obviously still in pain, but more easily than he had before. They ended up spooning again; Clint behind him with one arm under his head as a pillow, and the other draped over his waist, but this time the omega laced their fingers together. Clint dozed a little, but the omega’s constant small movements kept him from truly falling asleep. Eventually, his movements became more purposeful – rubbing their combined hands on his chest, rolling his hips back against Clint’s. Heat scent filled Clint’s nose, making him light-headed.

The omega became more insistent, pushing back on Clint’s erection. Clint untangled himself, scrambled out of his pants, then got to his hands and knees so he was crouching over the man. The omega started to roll to his front, but Clint stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him on his side. “Just like this,” he murmured. The man looked at him, puzzled, until Clint guided the tip of his cock against the omega’s hole and slowly pushed in. The man’s body opened smoothly around him, his slick easing the way. They both moaned at the feel of it.

The angle was odd, and Clint had to pull out and rearrange the omega’s legs to make it easier on both of them. Then Clint sank into him again, wringing a tiny whimper from the man’s throat; his head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and his teeth were firmly set in his lower lip. Clint closed his own eyes, and lost himself in the heat of the man’s body, thrusting steadily. The omega’s orgasm caught him by surprise, and the increased tightness around the base of his cock triggered his own orgasm, tying them together. Clint collapsed to one elbow, and he rested his head on the omega while their bodies shuddered with pleasure.

Afterward, Clint just wanted to sleep. That was when he discovered something he hadn’t considered – how was he supposed to lie down? Slowly, he began to shift to his side, grateful that the omega’s slick was still easing the way enough for slight movement. Despite that, it took some time for Clint to get back into a spooning position – there were some moments of discomfort, which caused the omega to tense around him, halting their progress. There were also aftershocks from their orgasms, which had the same effect. It felt like it took forever; he fell asleep as soon as he was able to lie on his side comfortably.

He woke with the omega tightening around him again; his knot hadn’t gone down completely, and he felt it swelling again, just a little, but it was too soon for him to get hard again. That wasn’t the case for the omega; he was masturbating, his hips jerking in tiny, thrusting motions.

“Want some help with that?” he asked groggily. The omega grabbed his hand and put it on his cock, squeezing to show how hard he wanted it. Clint jerked him off with quick strokes until the man came in his fist. “There you go, honey,” he said, and licked the come off of his hand before falling back to sleep.

==

The arrival of their next meal woke Clint again. He stumbled out of bed and picked everything up – more water and sandwiches. This time, the water hadn’t been tampered with, and the sandwiches were made with some sort of lunch meat and a slice of rubbery looking cheese; they were bland, but edible. Once again, Clint made sure the omega had enough to eat before finishing his own food. His heat was in a natural lull this time, and Clint had to keep reminding himself to eat; he was easily distracted by the sight of the omega chewing his food, or swallowing his water. A drop slid down the omega’s chin and onto his throat; the urge to lick it off was so strong, Clint had to go and stand against the wall on the opposite side of the room to keep himself from doing it. The chill of the wall on his skin – on his bare ass – made him remember his pants, still on the floor by the bed. He’d forgotten them, and the camera recording their every move; he decided he didn’t care.

The man was watching him again. When he caught Clint looking at him, he raised his chin and waved him over with an impatient gesture; Clint obeyed without hesitation. When he reached the bed, the omega stood up, swaying a little on his feet, and then limped over to the toilet. Clint followed him, to keep him from falling. While the omega took care of his personal needs, Clint grabbed a few of the antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit. They didn’t have many left, and Clint doubted they’d get more; hygiene wasn’t high on their captor’s list of things to worry about.

After they had cleaned up as much as they could, they ended up on the bed again; Clint flat on is back with the omega sitting on top of him. Clint liked the sight of him there, wearing Clint’s shirt, and he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t recognize that was his hormones talking. If they had met like regular people, the guy wouldn’t even have looked at him twice. If they did manage to escape, the man would never want anything to do with him. But Clint…liked him, liked the way he was handling himself in this fucked up situation. He wanted to get to know him, maybe more; Clint always was wishing for things he couldn’t have. He tried to stop thinking about it.

The omega was still in a lull; even though the scent he was giving off was going straight to Clint’s dick, there wasn’t a sense of tearing-their-clothes-off urgency. The man didn’t need him that way yet; Clint could wait. Instead, he was trailing his fingers all over Clint’s chest and shoulders, his warm touch leaving a slight chill in its wake. Clint had several scars, and the man was paying them particular attention, rubbing a curious finger over the ones left by Trickshot’s arrows. Clint had tried not to think about his childhood in the circus: Trickshot, a man who had been forced to take the Barton brothers into his care simply because he was a childless omega, had been determined to show juvenile alpha Clint that _he_ was boss, asserting his dominance over Clint by setting harder and harder tasks, and punishing him severely for his failures. Barney had escaped the same treatment only because he was old enough to be useful elsewhere; Clint had suffered alone. At least Trick’s beatings had prepared him for his present situation.

The omega’s exploration moved lower, pulling Clint out of his memories. He avoided the newest scar on Clint’s ribs, but there plenty of older ones to examine. They weren’t all from Trickshot; Clint’s life after escaping him hadn’t gotten any easier. Once the man had looked his fill, he lay down next to Clint, on his side with his back to him, and reached back and tugged on Clint’s arm. The guy was definitely a cuddler. Clint obliged him, wrapping his arm around him again. Heat lulls were for eating and resting, so they rested.

The omega woke him twice more; the first time for their third meal of the day – sandwiches again, surprise – followed by another round of fucking. The second time was in the middle of the night - if it was really night time; there were no windows, and Clint wouldn’t have been surprised if their captors had flipped their day and night schedules. Wouldn’t it just suck to escape in broad daylight when you were counting on the cover of darkness to get away? Regardless, Clint was half-asleep throughout the whole encounter, letting the omega do most of the work while he languidly rolled his hips in time with the man’s movements. Afterwards, they both slept until their breakfast was shoved through the door, and it began all over again.

This time, the heat inducer made the omega very agitated and he didn’t want Clint too close. He paced, his limp almost unnoticeable. When he couldn’t stay upright any longer without help, he sat by the pile of garbage in the corner and organized it, stacking plates and stuffing dried out antiseptic wipes into the empty water bottles, which he then lined up very neatly along the wall. Afterwards, Clint helped him back to the bed, where he tried to smooth out the wrinkles on the sheet. Clint put a hand on the man’s shoulder. The man shrugged it off and climbed into the bed, where he curled up into a ball, his back to Clint.

Clint crossed to the other side of the room, and sat with his back to the wall, his arms resting on his drawn up knees. The two of them were trapped together, but Clint could give the man his space until he was needed. Heat inducers were shit; they had screwed up the natural rhythm of the omega’s heat. Usually, this phase came at the very beginning, before an omega required an alpha’s presence. Clint wasn’t sure if bonded omegas went through the same thing, but they probably did. There had to be some benefit of bonding for omegas, but he couldn’t think of anything – maybe it was just that bonded omegas didn’t have to go looking for an alpha when they needed one? Clint tilted his head back until it was resting on the wall. Not the most comfortable position, and it was fucking cold, but he’d live.

They dozed until lunch. Actually, Clint dozed; the omega tossed and turned on the bed. When the food arrived, the omega allowed Clint close enough to share the meal; this time he ate most of the food himself. Then he went back to pacing. Clint stayed on the bed; his back was sore from sitting on the floor, and his ass was completely numb. He tried to keep watch over the omega – just in case his bad ankle gave out – but his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Maybe he’d just close his eyes for a little bit.

He woke up with omega lying beside him. The man definitely was not in a cuddling mood; it wasn’t physically possible to share the bed without touching, but he was plastered against the wall, trying to keep away from Clint.

Clint rolled out of the bed. He didn’t remember feeling so groggy during other heats; all he wanted to do now was sleep. Either the weird fluctuations in the omega’s hormones were messing with him, too, or the guards were lacing the food with sedatives, which made no sense. Hell, maybe this was how heat inducers affected alphas. He didn’t have to understand what was going on to know that something was messed up.

Their food was there; it bothered him that he hadn’t woken up when they brought it. Clint wasn’t hungry, and he was so goddamned tired of peanut butter and jelly; he put the plate on the bed for the omega. He took a bottle of water and went back across the room. The omega was asleep, but restless; he’d probably wake up soon, and Clint wasn’t sure if he still needed his space.

Not too much later, the omega startled awake, and looked around groggily, his eyes sliding past Clint as if he wasn’t there. He stared at the plate of food next to him, then picked up a sandwich and ate it with small, careful bites. After eating another two sandwiches, he picked up a fourth. He finally looked at Clint, and held up the sandwich, his brows raised in a question. Clint shook his head. The omega jabbed the sandwich insistently in the air and nodded forcefully. When Clint didn’t move, the man started to scoot off the bed.

Clint was on his feet in an instant. The man seemed to be moving without pain, but Clint didn’t want to take any chances; he’d spent most of the day on his feet, and he should give his bad ankle a rest. If eating food he didn’t want kept the man on the bed, Clint had no problem doing it. He took the sandwich from him, and started to retreat to the other side of the room again, but the omega grabbed his arm and tugged him down onto the bed. As soon as he was seated, the omega shuffled behind him, and practically draped himself on Clint’s back, one arm wrapped around his waist.

As soon as Clint started eating, he realized he was ravenous. He took a second sandwich, and finished it quickly. When he hesitated over a third, the omega picked it up and put it in his hand. As Clint was finishing it, the omega offered him the bottle of water. It was still sealed – too difficult for the omega to open with his broken fingers. Clint twisted the cap off and handed it back. The sandwich had made him thirsty, but his bottle was across the room where he’d left it; he’d go get it as soon as the omega was done eating. He could feel the omega’s slight movements against his back; he was probably drinking. Then the omega held the bottle out in front of him again, and waggled it a little.

“I’m fine,” Clint said. His voice felt strange in his mouth; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken. It couldn’t have been very long, but it felt like it.

The omega set the bottle down on Clint’s thigh – he either had to grab it or let it spill all over the place. Once it was in his hand, the omega rested his head on the back of Clint’s shoulder. He stroked Clint’s upper arm as Clint raised the bottle to his lips and took a small drink. The man had done that stroking thing before; it made Clint uncomfortable – he was touching Clint like they were lovers, and he couldn’t really want that – but he didn’t do anything to stop it. Alphas took care of omegas, omegas called the shots – at least, that’s how it used to work. Not so much anymore. With the falling birth rates, too many alphas thought protecting omegas meant controlling them. Clint had seen how a real alpha-omega relationship was supposed to work, and it wasn’t anything like what society now considered ‘normal’. It was only getting worse; omegas were quietly disappearing, some of them victims of breeding rings like this one, but many more had been locked away by their loved ones – for ‘their own good’. The fact that it was illegal didn’t stop families from doing it; everyone else looked the other way. And there was nothing Clint could do about it, not even if he hadn’t been a prisoner. His one defiance – letting the omega take charge – meant less than nothing; it changed nothing.

The omega tore a corner off of one of the remaining sandwiches and ate it. He pulled off another piece, and handed it to Clint. Clint took it, and gave the omega the water bottle. They continued like that, passing the water back and forth while the omega fed both of them.

When the sandwich was gone, and the last mouthful of water drained from the bottle, the omega pulled Clint down to lay on the bed. This time, instead of keeping his distance, or even spooning, the man draped himself on Clint’s chest, his injured hand resting over Clint’s heart. As far as Clint could tell, he fell asleep almost immediately. Much to his irritation, Clint fell asleep too.

He dreamed he was still a boy in the circus. He was in one of his few safe places, the bearded lady’s trailer. He was lying on a bench seat, his head in her lap, and she was brushing the hair back from his face. A confusing mix of scents filled the small space; she couldn’t always afford the medication that blocked her alpha hormones, or the omega hormone replacement therapy. She jostled his shoulder, and he grumbled at her; he didn’t want to get up. She shook him again, and Clint opened his eyes.

He and the omega were lying on their sides, facing each other. The omega’s hand was on the side of his face; it was his injured hand, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain. Heat radiated from his skin, and his eyes were bright – his heat was in full flare again. This time, the sense of urgency was dulled, as if Clint had gotten used to the surge of hormones. The omega moved his hand to the back of Clint’s neck and urged him closer. Clint hesitated, but he didn’t resist or try to pull away; the omega might not be feeling any pain, but Clint didn’t want to damage his hand any further. He averted his gaze, and the omega pressed his lips to Clint’s forehead.

Their legs were entwined, their erections trapped between them. The omega shifted closer, and that seemed to be enough for him at the moment. Clint rested his hand on the man’s hip, and leaned in to press his nose against his neck. He inhaled deeply. The omega stroked him from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine. Clint shivered. The omega pressed his thigh tighter between his legs, and Clint’s hips twitched helplessly. The omega smiled and did it again.

Clint grabbed his ass and squeezed. The omega rolled onto his back, pulling Clint on top of him. Clint caught himself before his full weight landed on him, and tried to lie down beside him, but the man wrapped his legs around Clint’s waist and held him in place. Then he ran his fingers lightly over Clint’s arms and shoulders, down over his chest and stomach, until he reached Clint’s cock. He didn’t wrap his hand around it, as Clint expected, just stroked up and down along the length of it, using the same light touch. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but as sensitive as he was after almost three days of heat sex, anything more would have bordered on painful. He dropped to one elbow and closed his eyes, his head hung low, enjoying the sensation.

Before Clint lost his head completely, he reached down between their bodies. If he was sensitive, the omega had to be, too. The man probably didn’t need a lot of prep – he hadn’t the other times – but easing the way couldn’t hurt, either. With two fingers, he circled the man’s wet hole, and then stroked him from his rim to the base of his testicles, matching the other’s light touch. The omega whimpered and angled his hips to allow Clint easier access. Clint repeated the motion over and over again, varying the pressure until the omega was shifting restlessly under him, and his hand had fallen away from Clint’s cock.

“Soon, honey,” Clint whispered in the omega’s ear, and he dipped a finger inside of him. The omega’s flesh was a little swollen, but he was still loose, and Clint slid a second finger in, massaging gently as the man clenched around him. This heat had to be over soon – the omega wouldn’t be able to take much more of this, no matter what his body was telling him. Clint definitely couldn’t perform more than one or two more times; the omega’s wildly fluctuating heat hormones had kept him from going into rut, and it would soon be too painful for him to get an erection, much less actually do any fucking.

For now, though, the omega was pushing against his hand, and Clint was still able to help him. He pulled his fingers out, and replaced them with his cock, pushing in slowly. The omega had his hand on Clint’s shoulder again, stroking slowly, and Clint started thrusting in time with his movements. Neither of them was satisfied for long with that; the omega jerked his hips impatiently and Clint pressed in closer, his thrusts becoming more of a grinding motion. The omega was tight around him, and his knot was already swelling.

“I’m close, honey. So close,” Clint muttered. “You good?” The man nodded, and reached between them; Clint was keeping his full weight off of the omega, but it was still awkward when the man began to pull at his cock. Clint was ready to come, so ready; he just needed something to push him over the edge. The omega’s orgasm would do it, but this time, he really had to work for it. Clint propped himself on his elbow again, and reached down to help him. “Almost over, honey,” he said as he squeezed the omega’s hand around his cock. “Gonna fill you up. You’re so tight on my knot already.” Clint kept up his sharp, grinding thrusts; they were both so close.

The omega’s entire body went rigid, and he clenched almost painfully around Clint’s cock. That was enough for Clint. He shuddered as he came; he barely managed to collapse to one side so he wouldn’t hurt the omega. They were both still, except for their heaving breaths, until the omega started squirming, trying to free the hand that was trapped between them.

“Wait,” Clint said hoarsely. “Put your arm around my neck.” Once the omega had done so, Clint worked his own arm under the man, and lifted him as he moved into a sitting position; he refused to spend the entire time they were tied crushing the man into the mattress. Clint lay down on his back, the omega on top of him. Now that it was over, he was aware of all his aches and pains – sheet burns on his knees, protesting muscles in his neck and back, the pull in his groin from the tie. He couldn’t even imagine how the omega was feeling.

“Sleep. Again,” Clint sighed. “If you can.” He wasn’t sure either of them would be able to, not with all the sleep they’d been getting lately, and all of the discomfort they were in.

So, of course, they did.

==  

The door thudded open. Clint surged to his feet, putting himself between the omega and whoever was about to enter the room. Again. Fucking useless instincts.

It was the red-haired woman. She stopped in the doorway, and looked Clint up and down. “You might want to put on some pants.”

Clint looked around; he wasn’t even sure where they were. He spotted them crumpled up under the bed, and picked them up. “It’s done?” He glanced at the sleeping omega, curled up on the bed with only Clint’s come-stained shirt to cover him.

“I’m here to escort you back to your room,” she told him.

“Can you at least get him another blanket?” Clint was reluctant to leave, especially while the omega was asleep; he didn’t know why.

“Someone’s coming to clean up this filth,” she said, gesturing at the pile of garbage in the corner of the room. “I’m sure they’ll take care of it.”

Clint was sure they wouldn’t. The janitors kept their heads down, their mouths shut, and did what they were told, nothing more. He looked down at the pair of pants in his hand, and then draped them over the omega’s lower body. It was the best he could do.

“Let’s go,” he said as he turned away from the bed. The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I thought you guys would prefer me this way.”

The woman shrugged and turned away. Clint trudged after her; the adrenaline from his abrupt awakening was wearing off, and his whole body felt bruised.

To his surprise, there were no guards waiting for them in the hallway. Not that he was in any shape to make another escape attempt, but they didn’t take any chances with him anymore. There were a couple of older guards who weren’t as sadistic as the other alphas; they were usually the ones who took him back to his cell afterwards. A post-heat alpha, physically drained and vulnerable, was just too tempting a target for the younger guards, and the boss didn’t want Clint ‘accidentally’ castrated.

The woman closed the door and walked away without checking to see if Clint was following. Clint didn’t have any better ideas, so he trailed after her, studying her curiously. He’d never heard of someone with only a secondary gender; if he thought about it, it made sense that it had happened, nature being what it was. Hell, there had been someone in the circus who presented as both alpha and omega, as well as a few people who had transitioned from one primary gender to another – anyone who didn’t conform to society’s norms tended to be excluded from it, and Carson’s had been something of a safe haven for a few of those people who’d been rejected by their families and friends.

They turned a corner, and the woman whirled abruptly and slammed him up against the wall, her hand on his throat. She didn’t say anything, just studied him closely. Clint met her eyes. She didn’t seem angry, but he held his tongue.

“Nothing to say, _alpha_?” The word was accompanied by a sneer.

“’Bout what?” He shouldn’t have been staring, but being rude to one of his captors wasn’t high on his list of things he worried about. If she wanted an excuse to smack him around, she’d find one; he didn’t need to hand that excuse to her on a silver platter, though, so he played dumb.

“You’re wondering. Everyone does.” She stepped back and let him go.

 Clint stepped away from the wall – it was fucking cold, just like everything else in this place – and shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

“I wasn’t born this way,” she said, unexpectedly. “When I was young, my government decided something needed to be done about the lack of omegas in our country. They rounded up a group of alpha children, and subjected them – us – to experiments, all of them painful, in an effort to make us omegas. Fertile omegas. It didn’t work, as you see.”

Clint felt sick. “Why tell me this?”

“Why do you think someone like me, who has been through that, would be _here_ of my own free will?”

“Everyone’s gotta eat, I guess,” Clint muttered. He’d made some hard choices of his own, just trying to survive. He hoped he’d never be forced to make a choice like that. “Still don’t see why you told me any of this.”

“That omega,” she said out of the blue. “He has people looking for him.”

Clint nodded. He’d had that thought himself. The boss may have used the surveillance camera to get his jollies, but none of the other omegas had cameras in their cells.

“When I have what I need, I will tell those people where to find him. This place, the whole operation, will be burned to the ground.”

“And since you’re telling me this, I’m guessing that will be soon.” This could be a trick, but he couldn’t see why she would tell him such a massive lie. What would be the point? Hope flared in his gut.

“A matter of days.” With that, she turned and started walking. Clint hurried to catch up.

“I still don’t get why. Why tell me?”

“You’ve been fighting them since I got here. You lose every time, but you don’t give up.”

“Yeah, I’m dumb like that.”

She stopped suddenly and turned to look at him again. “When they come for the omega, what do you think will happen when the guards can’t repel them? Will they surrender politely, just go quietly?”

Clint snorted. “These guys? They’ll fight just for the sheer joy of it.”

“And you and the other prisoners? What do you think will happen to you?”

Clint went cold, and it wasn’t because he was standing naked in a hallway. He shook his head.

“The head of security has standing orders to liquidate everything if they’re raided.”

“So, what? Now I have a couple of days to get ready to die?”

“You’ll fight, if you’re the man I think you are. I can lock down the section where the omegas are being held. All I can do for you is give you a fair warning.”

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered. It helped to know that the omegas would probably be okay, but only a little. Shit, he was going to die naked. If he’d known what was coming, he would have kept his damn pants.

“You’re welcome. Now shut up.”

She led him into the section that housed the guards. It was the only route back to his cell; Clint hated this part of the trip. The lounging off-duty alphas leered and hooted at him. He really should have kept his damn pants. Clint waited for the inevitable alpha posturing to begin, which always ended with him being shoved into a wall, or kicked in the ass to move him along faster.

The woman ignored the guards, and kept walking. None of the expected torments materialized, and for the first time in a long time, he made it back to his cell without any fresh bruises. The woman opened his door; he walked inside, and she closed it again without another word.  So that was that.

There was a folded set of clothes on his bed. That was unusual, and he figured the woman must have done it, though he didn’t know why she would. It wasn’t like he made a habit of giving all of his clothes to omegas. He picked up the shirt; something heavy fell out of the folds and landed on top of the pants.

It was a knife. The blade was black, and the handle was wrapped in cord. It was a survival knife; he’d met a lot of ex-military types who carried one. There was a symbol on the blade, the silhouette of an eagle, its wings spread. Clint had seen it before.

SHIELD.

Based on the things she’d said, the woman wasn’t SHIELD. That meant the omega…

Clint was in deep shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Clint and Phil are in a situation where they are forced to have sex with each other, or they will be killed. They do not know each other, and Phil is never named in this fic.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner & Icons] A Rock and a Hard Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604086) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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